A/N: This is for BrenRen, who seemed.. Concerned. And special thanks to my beta, AstraPerAspera, for letting me burn her eyes out with this ;) This is a sort of sequel to Chapter 4 of my Sam in Atlantis Series: Peripheral Visions, though reading that's not strictly necessary to understanding this. Please be over 17 if you're reading this...
It was late on Friday by the time he returned home from Washington, the house looming like the long weekend ahead, dark and empty in front of him. He paused in the front hall, briefly sorting through the mail he'd collected from the box at the end of the drive, determining what needed to be kept and what could go directly into the 'circular file' near the door. A plain white envelope, addressed simply 'Jack' above his address, caught his attention. The faint scent still lingering on the paper caught more than simply his attention. It had been a long time.
Jack smiled, his smile growing still wider when he felt the hard object concealed inside. Setting the rest of the mail down on the hall table, he ripped open the envelope and took out the letter. "Jack," it read. "I got your gifts. Happy Anniversary back. And remember, you need to use the big white HDMI cable - it connects to the left side of your laptop - and put it in HDMI Input 2 on the TV. Not 1 or there'll be no sound. Password's the usual. Love, Sam."
He slipped out the hard object, a flash drive protected in a small ziplock bag. The same one he'd sent her more than a month earlier. He pulled the drive out, holding it in the palm of his hand as he looked at it. Jack knew exactly what was on it - or was fairly certain he did. They'd been, unfortunately, dancing this dance for far too long. Although… the fact she wasn't a natural exhibitionist - that she did it for him - did tend to make the whole thing that much hotter.
His exciting Hot Pocket dinner plans completely forgotten, Jack headed to the living room, hoping against hope he'd left that damn cable exactly where he thought he had.
The tension coiled like a snake. Like a living thing. Surging through him, trying to get out. Needing to get out. His hand moved faster. His breathing came in ragged gasps. The pressure mounted…
It surged out of him, his head falling back against the sofa on a low, gutteral moan. For several long moments he lay still, the tension gone. Body at perfect rest. Temporarily sated in the aftermath of his release.
Jack sat up, wiping himself off with the edge of the towel in his lap, and focused on the TV screen again. He couldn't help smiling. She had barely started, and he was finished already. Though at least, under these circumstances, she could hardly mind.
Onscreen, Sam was still playing, teasing herself - and him. Running the hard blue tip of her toy along her own soft outer folds, spreading the moisture which glistened clearly despite the poor quality of her laptop camera. She moaned softly, and he felt himself respond. Again.
He reached for the glass sitting on the table next to him and quickly downed half the liquid inside. He was going to need more Gatorade.
The blue tip slipped inside her; she arched her hips up to meet it. Jack's hand began to move in rhythm with hers.
Suddenly, the weekend seemed not nearly long enough.